Mass Effect: Harvest
by Jace911
Summary: When the Reapers launch an all-out invasion of the Milky Way galaxy, the fate of countless sentient species rests on the shoulders of one man...but John Shepard is close to the breaking point.
1. Warm Welcome

**September 17****th****, 2185**

**Arcturus Station**

Admiral David Anderson hated waiting.

He'd never been much for it, even back during his days as an N7. In the marines your personal motto was "hurry up and wait", and God have mercy if you didn't have the patience for it. Anderson had always been impatient, but he'd always managed to put a clamp on his anxiousness enough to give the appearance of control; something that had only become more difficult as he'd climbed in rank. Lieutenants had to be calmer than sergeants. Captains had to be calmer than lieutenants.

More importantly, Anderson hated waiting for something he wasn't looking forward to. Nothing made doing _nothing_ worse than knowing that soon you were going to have to do something you hated. That was something else that only got worse as one advanced in the Navy; the things you hated doing became worse and worse with each pay grade.

Unable to completely hide his displeasure, Anderson cleared his throat and idly brushed his uniform for the hundredth time. Beside him his escort, a thick-muscled man who looked like he'd dropped straight out of a recruiting poster, straightened reflexively for the split second it took him to realize the Admiral was simply fidgeting again.

"He's late," Anderson observed, turning away from the viewport overlooking one of Arcturus' secondary docking bays and sitting at one of the briefing room tables. "It's not like him to be late."

"He'll be here, sir," the man replied. Anderson couldn't help but note the defensive tone in his voice. _Of course, isn't that why you picked him?_ Nonetheless, he had to keep up appearances.

"Don't sound so certain, Lieutenant Vega. For all we know, he could have set a course for the Terminus Systems as soon as he received the Alliance's message. We'd have a hard enough time finding that ship in our own space, let alone that scum-infested sector."

"With all due respect sir," Vega said, crossing his arms as he continued to stare out the window, "_he'll be here._"

Anderson sighed softly. "I hope you're right, Lieutenant."

There was a high-pitched beep from the briefing table's comm panel. Anderson's finger was on the switch in a flash. "Anderson here," he said, wincing inwardly at his overly-evident eagerness.

"_We've just detected a ship on long-range sensors, Admiral,"_ the officer on the other end reported. _"Profile matches the parameters we were given."_

Anderson felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow clashing in his gut. "Tell Bay Sixteen to transmit clearance codes to the new arrival." He hesitated. "And have marine fireteams standing by at the hatch."

"_Aye, sir."_

He rose and was about to tell Vega to fall in, but the big man was already halfway to the door.

Bay Sixteen was normally a pressurized drydock for light cruisers, but today it was serving a much different purpose.

The bay's massive waldo arms, normally tipped with industrial plasma torches, arc welders, and a variety of other implements, were now equipped with specialized magnetic grappling pads designed to hold mid-sized vessels firmly in place…even if they didn't want to be held. Because of the strange size of the incoming ship–not quite as large as a cruiser yet much larger than a frigate–a specially-constructed docking cradle had been hastily erected in the bay. No less than four teams of eight Alliance marines, including biotics, were waiting at the retracted hatch arm as Anderson and Vega climbed the catwalk nearly fifty meters up.

"We just received word, sir," the commander of the marines reported. "ETA on the incoming vessel is just under a minute."

"Good," Anderson said. "Remind your men that the objective is to take the target _prisoner_, not eliminate him. If he comes peaceably I expect you to follow the Alliance code of conduct regarding prisoners of war to the letter." He looked the commander and several of the marines in the eyes through their visors. "Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Admiral," Vega said, "he's here."

Anderson turned towards the shimmering blue mass effect field holding the docking bay's atmosphere just in time to see the vessel in question streak into view.

It was a sleek design; human, with touches of turian engineering in the twin sensor masts protruding above the stern and the outrigger configuration of the drive pods. The fuselage itself was nearly a hundred and sixty meters long, a single smooth arc resembling a long-beaked bird.

The frigate slipped smoothly through the bay shield and eased into position just above the cradle. Anderson could barely make out the ship's helmsman through the viewport on the bow as he signaled the docking officer to activate the magpads. A warning klaxon sounded in the bay as the waldo arms rotated out of their pods and clamped down on the ship's drive pods with a dull clank of metal on metal. The ship's pilot deactivated the drive core, the arms gently lowered the ship until its lower hull rested perfectly in the cradle.

_"Vessel secure,"_ the docking officer announced over the bay intercom. _"Defense teams stand by."_

The airlock arm in front of Anderson unfolded and extended until it fit snugly against the hull around the ship's portside airlock. Without hesitating, the marines moved past Anderson to take up firing positions covering the hatch.

A long moment passed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the curved hatch hissed to one side to reveal the airlock's inner door. Anderson noticed several of the marines tensing as they waited for the second door to open.

It opened.

Standing in the hatchway were exactly two figures; the first, an unshaven, hunched man in yellow and grey fatigues that looked like knockoffs of the Alliance Navy version. A baseball cap resting snugly on his head boasted the lettering "SR2".

The second man could not have been more different from the first. While wearing the same fatigues as the ship's helmsman, this man was clean-shaven and stood one point nine meters tall within a centimeter. The soft red glow of cybernetics showed beneath several scars on his face, but his eyes were still the same pale blue hue that Anderson remembered. What he didn't remember, however, was the weary look in those eyes; the look of a man with the weight of an entire galaxy pressing down on him every minute of every day.

After the split-second in which he took all of this in, the sounds of safeties being disengaged by the Alliance marines echoed in the bay.

Anderson straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. _Forgive me,_ he thought to the man whom he wanted nothing more than to shake hands with and welcome home.

"John Shepard," Anderson said, his voice unwavering, "In the name of the Systems Alliance navy I hereby place you under arrest for the crimes of treason and mass murder."


	2. Off The Leash

**Six Months Later**

**Earth**

"Hello folks, and welcome back to ANN. This morning we've got a special guest here in the studio to comment on the recent developments at Alliance military command in Vancouver. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Thank you, Miss Wong. My name is Jack Peterson, and I work as a Professor of Military Studies at UW Seattle. It's a pleasure to be here."

"We're very glad to have you, Jack. Now, for those of you just tuning in, we've got a lot to talk about today…"

The apartment was a small one-room unit, filled with essentials and few comforts: a metal-frame bed with clothing drawers tucked beneath the mattress, a small shower and bathroom tucked into one corner, and a table with a single chair by the floor to ceiling window that overlooked Vancouver harbor.

"…marks the sixth consecutive month in the military trial of John Shepard, formerly a decorated commander in the Systems Alliance marines and the first human to ever be chosen for the Citadel Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch. Born on Earth to unknown parents, Shepard's career in the Systems Alliance began after he enlisted at the age of eighteen to escape the gang-ridden streets of his childhood."

Despite the apartment's originally-Spartan design, it was hardly well-maintained. Datapads and piles of paper documents littered the table and half of the bed. A holographic bulletin projector had been crudely attached to the wall by the window, and countless files were "pinned" to its display.

"… soon distinguished himself on Akuze by surviving a thresher maw attack which wiped out nearly every member of his platoon within minutes. Despite this traumatic experience Shepard went on to enter the Special Warfare program on Arcturus Station and earn the designation of N7, one of the greatest accomplishments for a soldier in the Alliance Navy."

The apartment was devoid of people, save for a single figure lying on the uncluttered half of the bed. The man was dressed in the uniform of an Alliance marine, but devoid of any rank insignia or identifying tags. His face was unshaven and crisscrossed with faintly-glowing red lines; the glowing scars characteristic of cybernetic reconstructive surgery.

"Commander Shepard's rise to fame reached its climax nearly three years ago when the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius attacked the human colony of Eden Prime. After uncovering evidence of Saren's involvement, Shepard was inducted into the Spectres and spent several weeks tracking the Council's wayward agent through the Attican Traverse. In an act of desperation Saren gathered an army of synthetics known as the Geth and staged an attack on the Citadel, devastating the Council fleet and killing thousands. Thankfully Commander Shepard was able to intercept and defeat Saren with the aid of the Alliance Fifth Fleet before he could complete his coup and eliminate the Council members…"

His chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically, as he remained oblivious to the news broadcast coming from the vidscreen mounted on the wall. His eyes flicked back and forth behind closed eyelids, and his brow furrowed slightly as sunlight began to spill through the half-open blinds of his window.

"Unfortunately, Shepard's fame was short-lived. One month after the destruction of Saren's Geth armada and the turian's death at Shepard's hands, the Commander's vessel was attacked by an unknown force while patrolling the edge of Geth space and destroyed. Less than half of the crew escaped in the ship's rescue shuttles, and the commander himself was reported killed in action."

His breathing slowly became labored. The rapidness of his eye movements increased.

**I am the vanguard of your destruction.**

"…much confusion when Shepard suddenly reappeared on the Citadel roughly eight months ago, alive and well. After a short closed-door meeting with the Council, the details of which are still classified, Shepard departed the Citadel for destinations unknown. Numerous sightings of the Commander were reported in the following weeks on several worlds in or near the Terminus Systems including Illium, Omega, Horizon, and at least six other independent human colonies. Rumors also began circulating that Shepard had defected from the Alliance to an anti-alien extremist organization known as Cerberus. This, combined with the Commander's repeated claims that the galactic community was under threat from a species of sentient machines known only as "Reapers", led many to believe that the former human hero was suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder."

He rolled away from the window's light as it fell across his face. Murmured protests emerged from his mouth.

**Your species has the attention of those infinitely your greater.**

"Despite these accusations, the Alliance military refused to act on the Commander's reappearance until the Aratoht Incident six months ago. After a short visit to the Citadel following his trek across the Terminus Systems Shepard's vessel left Council space for the far-flung batarian system of Bahak, where human scientist Amanda Kensen and her team had recently determined that the star system's mass relay was the oldest in the known galaxy. Details on what exactly transpired within the system are still classified by the Alliance military, but within days of arriving the Commander's ship was spotted emerging from the other end of the Bahak relay. Shortly afterwards all contact with the system was lost, and batarian scout ships that were sent to investigate determined that the relay had been destroyed in a cataclysmic event that had also wiped out the nearby mining colony of Aratoht."

_An ancient construct, deep blue with a blazing core of energy, crumbles as a massive asteroid propelled by antimatter thrusters smashes into it._

**You exist because we allow it. And you will end because we demand it.**

"In a surprising turn of events, within days of the Aratoht Incident Commander Shepard approached his former commanding officers in the Alliance Navy, Admirals Steven Hackett and David Anderson, to admit his guilt in the destruction of the Bahak system. Shepard claimed that the system was in imminent danger of being overrun by a massive force of Reapers and that the destruction of the relay was a tragic necessity in order to prevent them from using it to invade the territories of Council species. The Batarian Hegemony responded with an immediate call for Shepard's extradition from the Alliance in order to be charged of war crimes in one of their own courts. The Alliance refused…"

_The construct flies apart as its core is compromised, sending a blast wave out across an entire star system and scorching every planet within reach._

**You fight against inevitability. Dust struggling against cosmic winds.**

"…brings us to the events of today. Despite increasing political pressure from the Citadel and increased tensions with the Batarian Hegemony, the Systems Alliance maintains that as Shepard is one of their officers they are within their rights to detain him indefinitely until the extent of any such war crimes can be determined. In the six months since Shepard's return to Earth he has been kept under strict house arrest in the Vancouver-Seattle Alliance Tower. As this is a military court, the trial has proceeded behind closed doors with little to no information on Shepard's innocence or guilt."

_Countless lives end in flames. All of them look to the sky in fear as their lives are snuffed out, screaming as the air is ripped from their lungs._

**We return…and you will rise.**

"_No!"_

Shepard jolted awake, the sudden motion nearly causing him to slide off the edge of his bed. For a long moment he sat upright, inhaling deeply and wondering why he was sweating. The light from Sol peeked over the horizon and through the window, causing him to wince at the intensity and raise a hand to shield his eyes.

"Blinds," he groaned. The metal strips rotated shut at the sound of his voice as he stood wearily and headed for the bathroom. He opened the cold water faucet and dipped his hands under the icy flow, splashing some in his face to shock away any lingering drowsiness.

Once he was more or less fully awake, Shepard closed the faucet and glanced up at his reflection. His scars from Project Lazarus had mostly healed, but the largest of them still traced a circular pattern above the left side of his jaw. He gently probed the skin around them with one hand, trying to ignore the glow of the cybernetics beneath.

He still wasn't used to them. He probably never would be.

It was amazing how empty one felt without all of the little imperfections that came with being human. Cerberus had rebuilt him perfectly…too perfectly. Since he'd woken up on that operating table Shepard couldn't remember the last time since he'd gotten so much as a headache or a runny nose. Half of his bones were gone, replaced or reinforced with advanced synthetic alloys. Thankfully he hadn't been given the same eerie optics used by Cerberus' leader; they resembled his old eyes down to the same dull shade of blue, but the clarity of vision they gave him had been jarring at first.

He was still John Shepard. Just not the John Shepard he remembered.

Shepard sighed and pushed away from the sink. Idly he wondered if the day shift guard was on duty yet–he wasn't allowed to leave the room without an armed escort, and the night shift guard was under orders not to let him out before 0600–and was willing to follow him on a walk around. Before he could decide whether or not to check, the door beeped and slid open behind him.

Shepard turned to see a hulking man in Alliance fatigues and a too-small shirt rush through the door and halt just inside the room. The marine snapped a hasty salute. "Commander," he said, slightly out of breath. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You're a little late for that, James," Shepard assured him. He nodded at the lieutenant's appearance. 'What's wrong? You look like you just fell out of bed." _Like me,_ he left unsaid.

"Got a call from the defense committee," Vega said, jerking his thumb over one shoulder. "They didn't tell me why, but they want to see you. _Now._"

Shepard's stomach sank slightly. The committee had always operated on their own timetable; letting him stew for long periods of time between sessions was one of the many ways they liked to make him sweat. The fact that they had sent Vega to collect him at this hour spoke volumes for the importance of whatever was happening.

He pushed all of that out of his mind. "Give me a minute," he said as he moved towards the drawers underneath his bed. "I'm not exactly presentab–"

"Sir," Vega said insistently. "_Now._"

Shepard paused and examined the marine's face. His expression might as well have been set in stone, but Shepard had been reading people longer than the man in front of him had been in the military. There was a sense of barely-contained urgency behind Vega's façade, as well as something else; anxiety. Shepard doubted the man was afraid–anything big enough to scare Vega would be something to see–but James was a smart man. He had to know that whatever could kick the committee into overdrive like this had to be big.

Shepard gave a baleful glance at his wrinkled clothes. "All right. Lead the way, Lieutenant."

Vega jerked his head towards the door and strode out at a brisk pace. Shepard sealed his quarters behind him and jogged out to the corridor. He almost lost sight of his escort immediately; the hallway was crowded with alternating currents of Alliance personnel. Shepard bumped into more than one person as he hurried to catch up with Vega.

"What's going on?" he asked as he slowed by Vega's side.

"Dunno," came the reply. "All I was told is that the committee wants to see you, muy pronto_._ I saw the rest of the marines in my barracks gearing up for deployment, though."

"Could be a drill," Shepard suggested.

Vega shook his head. "Nah. The CO's not big on snap drills; he knows if people aren't spit and polish enough they wouldn't get posted to VSHQ in the first place."

They rounded a corner and hurried towards a set of stairs leading up to the committee chambers. The wall to Shepard's right split apart as the automated shades activated, allowing light to spill into the hallway and granting a breathtaking view of Vancouver harbor. Skyscrapers and groundcar overpasses crisscrossed the cityscape before him on either side of the harbor. Below him he could make out the sail-shaped exterior of Canada Place at the base of the Alliance Tower. In fact, his cybernetic eyes were precise enough that he was able to make out individual ripples on the harbor more than half a mile away.

Shepard closed his eyes and shook his head. No matter what he did, he couldn't get Cerberus out of his head. Briefly he wondered if that had been their intent; to ensure that he would be constantly reminded of how much they had done for him, and how much they believed he owed them.

_Nothing they could have done would have been worth the price they were asking,_ he told himself for the millionth time in six months. _Quit thinking about 'what-ifs' and deal with what's in front–_

"Shepard!"

His head snapped up as he reached the top of the stairs to see a familiar figure emerging from the committee chambers down the hall: a dark-skinned man with a clean shaven head and a freshly-pressed Alliance uniform.

Vega slowed to a halt abruptly and saluted. "Sir."

"At ease, Lieutenant," Anderson said, returning the salute without breaking stride. He extended a hand as Shepard approached. "Damn good to see you again, John."

"Likewise sir," Shepard replied as he shook. Anderson fell in beside the two of them as they approached the lobby.

"'Sir'?" Anderson said with mild reproach. "You don't take orders from me anymore, Shepard. You've got permission to ease up a little."

"Don't remind me."

"How're you holding up?"

Shepard shrugged. "Civilian life isn't so bad once you get used to the luxuries. Hot meals, fluffy pillows, real showers. It's the waiting that's killing me."

Anderson waved a hand. "We'll get it sorted out soon, Shepard. You won't be cooped up for much longer."

"Why? What's going on?"

Anderson slowed to a stop a few meters from the door. "You heard about Kar'Shan recently?"

Shepard grunted. "Hard to miss it. It's one of the only things ANN airs when they aren't trying to stick a camera up my ass and interview my intestines." He was silent for a long moment. "It's them, isn't it?"

Anderson rubbed his brow. "In all likelihood, yes. Bahak _was_ in batarian space. It was inevitable they'd reach another relay and start spreading through the Hegemony sooner or later."

The feeling in Shepard's stomach turned into a singularity. "Damn it," he hissed, turning to lean against the window. Morning traffic was already forming into thick streams of skycars buzzing about above the city.

"We should have warned them," he said after a moment. "What sort of chance did they stand against something like that without even knowing it was coming?"

"Not a whole lot worse than if they _had_ known," Anderson said. "There's not much you can do to prepare for an invasion of that magnitude when it begins in your own backyard. Besides, the batarian navy's been on alert since you…" His voice trailed off, and he averted his eyes from Shepard's.

"Since I pushed a button," Shepard finished, "and murdered three hundred thousand people."

"You _know_ that's not true." Anderson insisted. "Everyone in that system would have been just as dead if you'd stood by and done nothing. Because of you, we at least have a chance!"

"A _chance?_" Shepard shot back, whirling on Anderson. "How many ships did it take to bring down Sovereign? Thirty? Forty? How many of his friends do you think are coming for us _right now_–"

Anderson's fists closed on the crumpled collar of Shepard's uniform, and before he could react the Admiral shoved him against the window. "Get a hold of yourself, John!" he hissed. "You think I don't know the odds? You think I don't look at the recon reports coming out of the Hegemony _every day_ and think to myself 'What's the point'?" He paused, taking a deep breath and letting go of Shepard's shirt. "We might be outmatched, but as long as there's a single human left in the galaxy we're not down for the count. If we keep our heads and play this smart, we can get through this."

Shepard smoothed his shirt and turned back to the window. "Yeah." He buried his face in both hands for a moment before sighing. "Sorry, sir. I've just been on edge for the past few weeks." He held up a hand with two fingers almost touching. "Came this close to snapping more than once."

Anderson snorted. "Well, then you'll be happy to hear what the committee has to say. They're going to let you off the leash."

A jolt ran through Shepard. "What?"

Anderson nodded. "They've finally finished reviewing the evidence of your activities with Cerberus, and from what I've heard there isn't enough to convict you of treason. Not that they would, given how many colonies you saved out in the Terminus with your little trip through the Omega-4 relay."

"What about Aratoht? The Alpha Relay?"

"It's being swept under the rug. With the Hegemony in chaos, the Alliance is dropping the charges against you." Anderson resumed his walk towards the lobby door. Shepard and Vega fell into step behind him.

"Just like that?" Shepard asked in disbelief.

"Aside from the treason charge, most of this trial's been a show to keep the batarians from declaring war," Anderson explained as he keyed open the door. Inside the lobby over a dozen officers moved from one bank of terminals to the next, passing along reports and updates. "With them out of the picture for the foreseeable future, the committee's decided to bring you back to active duty as an advisor."

"Because if there's one gift I have in this universe," Shepard said bitterly, "it's getting people to listen to my advice."

The trio entered the lobby and paused at the receptionist's desk as Anderson identified himself.

"Hey, Shepard," Vega said. Shepard turned to see the big man extend a hand. "Good luck in there, man."

They shook, and Shepard nodded. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

Vega offered him a half-smile. "I don't care what they say about you, 'mano. You're a hero in my book."

Images of Bahak and Virmire flashed through Shepard's head unbidden. "Yeah, well…that's a matter of op–"

"Shepard?"

He whirled at the sound of the familiar voice. _Was that…?_ It couldn't be.

An Alliance marine with a few days' of stubble on his chin and the rank insignia of a Major stepped out of the committee chambers, his eyes locked on Shepard's in slight disbelief.

"_Kaidan?_" Shepard asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Before he could answer, Anderson stepped away from the receptionist's desk and drew a salute from the man. "Major Alenko," Anderson said calmly. "How'd it go?"

Kaidan tossed Shepard a sideways glance before replying. "Your guess is as good as mine, sir. I've never been much good at reading people, and they're about a stony as you get."

"Sounds like them." Anderson turned to Shepard. "Wait here a minute, I'll let them know you've arrived."

After giving the two men a neutral glance, he strode forward and entered the chambers. There was a long moment of silence as Shepard and Kaidan eyed each other cautiously.

"So," Shepard said. "Major, huh?"

Kaidan nodded. "Yeah, a few months ago. Technically got my own command and everything, but the brass has had me playing witness since then."

"Mm," Shepard said automatically. For another few seconds the two of them were at a loss for words.

"Commander," Kaidan said abruptly, "About what happened on Horizon–"

The door behind him opened to reveal an anxious-looking Anderson. "Shepard," he said, waving a hand, "they're ready for you."

Shepard spared Kaidan another look before following Anderson. He swore he could feel the other man's eyes on the back of his head up until the doors cycled shut behind him.


	3. Arrival

The Alliance Tower's primary courtroom was easily one of the biggest wastes of internal space Shepard could think of, barring the Council Chambers on the Citadel. At nearly fifteen meters wide and nearly twice as long, the committee chambers' designer had likely intended for its size and layout to intimidate whoever was seated opposite the presiding officers. There were three admirals present, just as there had been for months now, all of them seated behind a massive curved desk in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that had to be twenty meters tall.

Anderson led Shepard towards the center of the room, but where there was normally a defendant's and prosecutor's bench there was only empty space. With no alternative, the two of them stood side by side before the judge's bench.

Admiral Hawking, a thin woman with graying hair, leaned forward and pressed her hands together. "John Shepard," she began, "this committee has summoned you to deliver our final verdict on the charges leveled against you approximately six months ago." She made a show of opening a paper folder laying on the bench in front of her and examining the documents within for a moment before continuing. "After extensive investigation and analysis of the available facts, we have concluded that there is insufficient evidence to convict the accused of the charge of treason for their activities with the organization known as Cerberus. While it is true that Cerberus is responsible for the deaths of numerous Alliance and Council citizens, the defendant's actions during his affiliation with them did not result in any quantifiable breach of Alliance law, as was the case in Halsey v. Parliament in 2171."

She closed the folder and slid it away as Shepard let out a breath he'd forgotten he was holding. Hearing Anderson tell him he was clear was one thing; hearing it from the people who had the power to lock him away or have him executed was another.

Hawking opened a second file, and without bothering to pretend to read the contents said "Furthermore, it is the opinion of this committee that the defendant's actions in the so-called 'Aratoht Incident' do not meet the established definition of a war crime. While it is true that the defendant's confessed actions led to the deaths of approximately three hundred and five thousand batarian citizens, the recent events in the Batarian Hegemony and prior evidence of the Reapers' lack of ethics concerning unarmed citizens in war have forced us to conclude that the victims of the Aratoht Incident were a necessary loss in order to prevent a much larger tragedy from occurring."

She closed the second file and laced her fingers together as her eyes lifted to Shepard's. "Does the defendant have anything further they wish to add?"

"No, ma'am," Anderson answered.

Hawking nodded. "Very well. This brings us to our next outstanding issue."

Admiral Andreyovich, seated to her left, tapped a control on the bench. A holographic image of the Milky Way galaxy appeared in the air between Shepard and the committee. As he watched, a small point on the very edge of the galaxy expanded to reveal a solar system with five planets, an asteroid belt, and a mass relay. _Bahak._

"Roughly six months and eight days ago," Andreyovich began, "the detonation of the Bahak mass relay resulted in the complete destruction of the solar system and all of its contents. Thanks to previous reports from Shepard," Andreyovich nodded in his direction, "and our own recon we now know that the Bahak relay would have been used by the Reapers as a jump-off point for the invasion of potentially every inhabited star system in the known galaxy. The loss of the relay has delayed this invasion significantly, but as the situation in batarian space proves has not stopped it."

The Bahak system shrank back to its scale size before winking out on the map. Red lines spread from Bahak to nearby systems, spiderwebbing throughout the Batarian Hegemony until nearly the entire region glowed blood-red.

"Approximately three days ago," Andreyovich continued, "contact with one of our listening posts on the edge of the Hegemony was lost. Several other remote outposts followed suit shortly after, all along the batarian border. In response, the bulk of the Alliance Navy has been recalled from various colonial patrols and assignments and redeployed to defend against an imminent Reaper invasion."

The Sol and Arcturus systems, less than a thousand light-years from the red disk engulfing the Hegemony, began to glow blue. "The Second, Third, and Fifth Fleets under Admiral Hackett have massed at Arcturus Station in preparation for any thrust towards Sol, with the First and Fourth in reserve near Pluto on our side of the Charon relay. The Sixth and Seventh have been ordered to take up advance positions at Terra Nova and Eden Prime, respectively, in order to gauge the strength of any invasion force before falling back to join the rest of the fleets at Arcturus."

Andreyovich tapped another key on the bench, and the galaxy map rose to allow Shepard a clear view of the admirals. "When the Reapers decide to hit us, we'll meet them with everything we've got."

Admiral Fletcher, seated opposite Andreyovich on the bench, nodded. "Which is where you come in, Shepard. You've had first-hand experience fighting the Reapers; their forces, their tactics, their capabilities. Out of any human in the galaxy, you've probably got the best idea of how they think. We'll need knowledge like that if we're going to win this." Fletcher exchanged glances with Hawking and Andreyovich before proceeding. "With that in mind, we've been granted the authority to reinstate your rank of Commander in the Systems Alliance Navy. You'll be placed on Admiral Hackett's personal staff as an advisor for the duration of this conflict to offer analysis and observations on the Reapers, until such a time as when the threat to human space has been eliminated."

Anderson nodded. "Thank you, Admirals." He gave Shepard a sidelong glance, his brow lifted in a silent query.

Shepard didn't hesitate. "Admirals, I accept."

Hawking leaned back in her seat. "Excel–"

"Sirs!"

Everyone in the room turned towards the bank of monitors on the left side of the chamber, where a lieutenant regarded her monitor with a look of concern on her face.

"What is it?" Anderson asked.

The officer looked up. "Something's wrong. I can't raise Arcturus Station for the hourly update."

"Admiral Hackett was delivering his report on the readiness of the Arcturus fleets just before you arrived," Fletcher explained to Shepard and Anderson.

"Lieutenant, it's probably an issue with the comm buoys," Hawking said irritably. "Reroute to one of the secondaries."

"With respect Admiral, I've already tried. No response from any of the backups."

Shepard's bad feeling intensified tenfold. There were dozens of military-grade comm satellites scattered throughout the space between Sol and Arcturus, with multiple redundancies. For every single one of them to have gone down at once…

"Contact the First," Andreyovich ordered, rising from his seat and moving around the bench. Anderson beat him to the lieutenant's terminal, so he halted by the edge of the desk. "Have them send a ship through the relay to see what the hell's going on with communications–"

"Sir," Anderson said grimly as he stared at the monitor, "the First is already gone."

The entire room was silent for a very, very long moment.

"What the hell are you talking about, David?" Fletcher asked.

Anderson glanced up, and the look in his eyes froze Shepard's spine. "We just lost contact with the moon."

Shepard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "They're here."

Hawking shook her head. "Impossible," she said after a moment, although Shepard could hear a crack in her voice. "They couldn't be this close already. We would have had some sort of warning–"

"How the hell did they bypass our defenses?" Fletcher demanded.

Andreyovich had to shout over the other two in order for the comm officer to hear him. "Keep trying to raise Admiral Hackett, it's got to be an issue with the buoys–"

"Sir,_"_ Anderson urged. "_Look._"

The image of the Milky Way, still hovering above Shepard and the admirals, was replaced with a two-dimensional display from some sort of handheld holocam. It was shaky and blurry, with Chinese characters scrolling along the bottom too rapidly for Shepard's omnitool translator to kick in, but he had no trouble making out what it was showing.

A massive blue-black dreadnought, similar in appearance to vids Shepard had seen of Earth-native cephalopods, towered over central Hong Kong. Standing on five segmented joints almost like the fingers of a hand, with a half-dozen more protruding from its sides, its body tapered up into a spire that had to be nearly two kilometers tall. Bolts of red light emerged from the tips of its upper appendages to spear through skyscrapers and swat fleeing traffic out of the air. As Shepard watched, three more ships appeared from above the camera's field of view and touched down in the megacity.

The vid grew smaller before being joined by half a dozen more. London. New York. Moscow. Buenos Aires. Johannesburg. Los Angeles. All of them showed similar scenes.

Save for a few quiet sobs, nobody said anything as the carnage played out above their heads. It was Fletcher that finally broke the silence. "What…what do we do?"

Even if Cerberus' upgrades hadn't given him perfect hearing Shepard could have easily detected the fear in Fletcher's voice. Fear, he saw as he looked around the room to see that everyone's eyes were now on him, which was shared by everyone else. Only Anderson returned his look with a stony expression. He was afraid…but he'd known this day would come. The rest of them had only now woken up to that reality.

Before Shepard could offer anything in reply the entire structure of the Alliance Tower rumbled as a deep mechanical groaning noise, so low it set Shepard's teeth on edge, reverberated through the room. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and despite himself he felt his hand shake for a moment before he balled it into a fist.

Everyone turned towards the window at the end of the chamber just in time to see a shadow fall over the four hundred meter building.

"Oh my god…" Andreyovich murmured as familiar segmented appendage descended into view.

"Get away from the window!" Shepard shouted, backing away. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Anderson urging the other officers out of their seats and towards the door. _"Move!"_

A brilliant red beam of light emerged from the dreadnought and stabbed down at the base of the Alliance Tower. The window shattered inward as the pressure wave hit a split second later, sending shrapnel through the admirals and hurling the massive bench through the air along with their bodies.

Shepard tackled Anderson at the waist and carried the older man to the ground just before the desk would have flattened them both; it flew over their heads and smashed into the chamber doors, disintegrating on impact.

As the dust settled, Shepard looked up at Anderson. "You all right?"

Anderson coughed and lifted himself up on one elbow. "Fine…I think."

The two of them stood shakily and surveyed the chamber. In mere moments the room had been totally ruined; small fires nibbled at the walls and ceiling, monitors smoked and sparked, and bodies lay everywhere.

Without saying anything Shepard and Anderson moved from person to person, checking for survivors. Their injuries were grisly; the technicians and officers who hadn't risen from their seats had been electrocuted when their terminals had overloaded. Those that had followed Anderson's orders and moved towards the doors had been even less fortunate; at least three Alliance officers had been cut down by flying glass shrapnel, and another had been crushed beneath the flying bench meters from the door. The admirals had been hurled across the room by the blast and slammed into the walls like ragdolls.

Shepard glanced up at Anderson from across the room. His mentor shook his head slowly, his mouth pressed into a firm line.

Shepard let out a slow sigh and closed his eyes. _How many times,_ he tasked himself, _have others around me died while I lived?_

He'd lost count.

He felt a slap on the shoulder and looked up to see Anderson standing over him. In either hand he held marine sidearms, likely taken from the bodies of the guards. He offered the butt of one to Shepard. "Get up."

Shepard met his eyes for a moment before looking out at Vancouver. With the window gone he could hear the cacophony of destruction outside; the clatter of mass accelerator fire, shrieking of starfighter engines, and the distinctive hum of Reaper weaponry. The first dreadnought to land had been joined by at least five others, all of them towering hundreds of meters above the tallest skyscrapers as they carved slow but methodical paths of destruction wherever they went.

A memory from the Prothean ruins on Ilos–he knew it had barely been three years ago, but it felt like millennia–flickered through his mind: a damaged recording of their last moments as a civilization, before the Reapers had snuffed them out. _"All is lost…cannot be stopped…cannot be stopped!"_

At the time, he'd been too focused on preventing Saren and Sovereign from bringing about the invasion. Failure of that magnitude hadn't been comprehendible then…but faced with the sheer scale of the Reapers' power now, it was.

Shepard's hand slapped over the grip of the gun as Anderson tugged him to his feet. "Where to?"


	4. Back In The Saddle

Once again, Jeff Moreau was _not_ having a good day.

As the former Alliance pilot hobbled through the corridors of Arcturus Station, bracing himself on the walls each time the station shook from another direct hit, a never-ending stream of curses and epithets emerged from his mouth–most of them unimaginative and crude.

"Shit shit _shit!_"

A voice in his earpiece spoke up. "_Damage to the station is intensifying, Jeff. Estimations suggest Arcturus' kinetic barriers will fall in approximately ninety seconds."_

The station rocked from a particularly savage blow, and Jeff nearly lost his balance. Only a last-second grab for a nearby handrail saved him from a chest full of cracked ribs. "I'm _coming_, EDI!" he shot back. "Just get the engines prepped!"

"_Activating the drive core without authorization will result in my discovery and deactivation,_" she pointed out. "_Our escape will be significantly hindered if the guards uncover our ruse and attempt to prevent the Normandy's launch._"

Jeff growled as he hauled himself up and continued towards the docking bay. As usual, she was right.

After several more seconds of being battered against the walls none-too gently, the blast doors cycled in front of him and Jeff was greeted with the sight of his baby.

Well, his _other_ baby.

The Normandy, sporting a brand new Alliance-blue and white paint job, sat in the docking bay's drydock cradle under the tender care of six different magclamps. Outside the atmospheric barrier red-white dots of fire blossomed out in space as the station's defenders tried and failed to hold off their attackers.

No personnel attempted to stop him as he hastily clambered up the catwalk stairwell to the airlock's access corridor, and no shouts of warning were issued when he tapped in the code EDI had made him memorize weeks ago. For one moment, Jeff allowed himself to believe that something was going his way.

Then the airlock door opened, and he found himself staring down the barrel of an assault rifle.

"Joker?"

Once his heart began beating again, Jeff finally noticed the familiar face behind the rifle. "Holy _shit_, Campbell, I think I just pissed myself…"

The pale-faced marine lowered her weapon. "Sorry. Ship's been on lockdown since the battle started. My orders were to deny everyone entry–"

Joker waved a hand and brushed past her as the outer airlock sealed behind him and the inner one opened. "Yeah yeah, great job. Now strap in."

She followed him hesitantly as he hooked a left and hurried towards the Normandy's conn. "We weren't told you were coming–"

"Dunno if you noticed," Joker replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "but the chain of command's a little busy getting its ass kicked."

The pilot's seat swiveled towards him as he approached, and he settled into the leather seat–thank God the retrofits hadn't taken out _all_ of the creature comforts–before turning to the controls and cracking his knuckles…gingerly.

"_Hello, Mr. Moreau_," EDI's voice said from the speakers above him.

"Hey EDI," he answered. As long as Campbell was hovering over his shoulder, they had to keep up their little charade. "Drive core?"

"_Powering up._"

"Thrusters."

"_Online._"

"Barriers."

"_Online._"

"FTL?"

"_Primed._"

"Docking clamps?"

"_Overriding security in five seconds._"

"Hold on to something," Joker said over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Campbell snapping herself into the copilot's seat before he flicked on the intercom. "Attention all hands, this is your new captain speaking. Brace for some serious shit."

One by one, the magclamps securing the Normandy in position deactivated and retracted. Just as the last two powered down, Joker casually fed power to the ventral thrusters to lift the frigate above its cradle and spun it around towards the barrier. There was a cry of alarm from down the corridor behind him as one of the retrofit techs hurried to the acceleration chairs.

"Inertial compensators?" Joker asked, just to make certain he wasn't going to get yelled at for splattering someone all over the CiC.

"_Online._"

Joker keyed the thrusters.

The Normandy shot out of the docking bay like bat out of hell…which wasn't a bad metaphor, Joker realized as his displays cleared and he caught a glimpse of the battle raging around Acturus.

More than a hundred Alliance ships were scattered around the station in a desperate attempt to defend it against a dozen Sovereign-class Reapers. Their primary weapons, brilliant red and gold streams of superheated metal, carved through the human ships like chainsaws through butter. Joker banked hard to port as an Alliance cruiser ahead of them exploded from a grazing hit; the Normandy shuddered as wreckage from the larger ship pelted its smaller cousin's kinetic barriers.

"_Alert: Arcturus Station's kinetic barriers have failed,_" EDI warned. "_The station is suffering heavy damage._"

A glance at the rear screens confirmed her statement. The five-kilometer ring shape of Artcurus was belching fire from countless breached compartments. Joker could make out dozens of smaller Reapers, each one the size of the Normandy, landing on the hull and carving into it like insectoid scalpels.

"Oh, God…"

He shut off the rear view as he heard Campbell's suppressed sobs. He couldn't blame her; he'd known this day would come, and he still felt like shit.

"_Incoming transmission from Fifth Fleet,_" EDI announced. "_Admiral Hackett is ordering a full retreat for all Systems Alliance vessels in the Arcturus and Sol systems."_

"What?" Joker and Campbell cried at the same time.

"_Alliance forces in both systems have suffered heavy losses from large numbers of Reaper capital ships. Reports indicate Earth is being invaded by approximately eighty Sovereign-class Reapers and significantly more escort vessels. Enemy reinforcements are still arriving via the Charon relay._"

"What about Shepard? We can't just leave him!"

"_The odds of successfully mounting a rescue operation in the midst of a Reaper invasion are statistically slim, Mr. Moreau."_

Joker was already swinging the Normandy's bow towards the soft blue glow several thousand kilometers away from Arcturus. "EDI, prepare to engage stealth systems."

"_We have no relevant information regarding Shepard's current status,"_ EDI pointed out. "_Casualties on Earth have already reached the twenty million mark."_

"Joker, she's right!" Campbell said. "We can't go back there, it's insane!"

Joker glanced at his display and saw that the stealth systems were still offline. "EDI," he repeated. "You know we won't stand a chance in hell without the Commander."

EDI was silent for a full three seconds. "_…Engaging Tantalus drive core. Internal sinks active. Our heat emissions are now masked."_

The mass relay grew on Joker's scopes as the Normandy hurtled closer. Passive sensors beeped at him insistently as they detected a steady stream of Reapers dropping out of FTL near the relay before being launched towards Sol.

"This is _suicide_," Campbell protested, her eyes following the massive form of a Reaper dreadnought ahead of them as Joker brought the cloaked Normandy into line with the relay.

Despite the situation, Joker chuckled as a bolt of blue-white energy leapt out from the relay to envelope the Normandy.

"Wouldn't be the first time…"

* * *

><p>Moments later, the Normandy emerged from the Charon relay in the shadow of Pluto. As Joker maneuvered the ship out of alignment with the relay–stealth wouldn't do them much good if an incoming Reaper ran them over–collision warnings began sounding throughout the cockpit.<p>

_"Sensors are detecting six hostile capital ships near the relay,"_ EDI advised. _"I suggest caution until we have achieved a minimum distance of ten thousand kilometers."_

Neither of them heard her. Campbell and Joker's expressions fell as they saw what was triggering the alarms.

A massive debris cloud surrounded the Charon relay, stretching at least a thousand klicks in every direction. The largest pieces were barely the size of the Normandy, and as one of them tumbled end over end through the vacuum Joker locked onto it with the forward cams and magnified the image.

The fragment spun slowly towards them, revealing the words _SSV Fuji_ and the Systems Alliance crest.

The door to the cockpit hissed open behind them, and Joker glanced over his shoulder to see one of the retrofit techs–what was her name? Taylor? Trader?–enter. "What in the _hell _is going_–_"

She jerked to a halt as she saw the sprawling field of wreckage floating before them, her mouth agape. "What…what is this–?" _Traynor_, that was her name.

Joker turned back to his controls and fed power to the Tantalus drive. A mass concentration opened up in space ahead of them, drawing the Normandy silently away from the relay.

Traynor quietly stepped forward to look out the viewport as a graveyard of blasted ruins tumbled past the bow. "Is that the _fleet?_"

"That _was_ the fleet," Joker corrected.

_"That is not entirely correct, Mr. Moreau. According to passive scans, there is not enough debris present around the relay to account for more than sixty percent of the First Fleet's tonnage. It is likely a number of Admiral Lindholm's vessels escaped through the relay before the bulk of the Reaper invasion force arrived."_

Joker snorted. "Fat lot of good that does us."

_"The more vessels survive the initial assault, the better equipped any potential counter attack would be,"_ EDI replied. _"It is also likely Admiral Hackett was following the same line of thought when he ordered a full retreat."_

Traynor turned away from the debris field and gave EDI's speakers a quizzical look. "You're quite insightful for a VI, EDI."

"Eh…" Joker said hesitantly. "About that–"

_"I was programmed by my creators in Cerberus to offer tactical advice and assessment, Specialist Traynor,"_ EDI interrupted. _"I have access to several hundred hours of battle analysis commentary from the attack on the Citadel in 2183 and every major Alliance engagement since the end of the First Contact War in 2157."_

"Yeah," Joker quickly added. "That."

Traynor gave Joker a sidelong glance before turning back to the viewport. "So where are we going?"

"Earth."

"_What?_"

"Shepard and Anderson are still groundside," he explained as the Normandy cleared the debris field. He typed in a set of rapid jump calculations for Earth with one hand while checking the rear sensors with the other. "And if you think I'm going to leave them to get lasered by MechaGodzilla, you're got another thing coming."

"Don't waste your breath, ma'am," Campbell said. "I already tried telling him it was crazy. He won't listen."

"Okay," Joker said, swiveling his chair around to face them, "Raise your hand if you've outflown every other pilot in the Alliance fleet, successfully launched an assault on a bigass space station in the center of the galaxy, and _blown up a Reaper._"

He raised his hand and gave both of them surprised looks. "Oh, just me?"

"Joker, we're not questioning your service record," Traynor said, moving forward to put a hand on his chair as he turned back to the controls. "But think about it; we don't even know if Shepard or Admiral Anderson are even still alive! For all we know they could be buried in rubble, or incinerated, or…or…"

"Thanks for those mental images, Traynor. EDI?"

_"FTL drive online. Jump coordinates are valid. I recommend securing yourselves for transit."_ On the display above Joker's head, a timer began ticking down from ten.

Campbell threw her arms up and turned away from Joker. "It's goddamned suicide…"

Nonetheless, she and Traynor moved to the copilot's and sensor operator's seats to strap in as Joker nosed the Normandy's bow towards Earth.

"Hang in there, Shepard," Joker muttered as the jump clock neared zero. "If you die on me again, I swear I'm gonna break my foot kicking your ass."

With a flicker of light, the Normandy accelerated to several thousand times the speed of light and vanished.


End file.
